


Questions, More Questions, and Maybe an Answer or Two

by Howlingdawn



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: @ god: hmu after quarantine pls, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexuality, Coming Out, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Bullying, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentions of Pon Farr, Questioning, Self-Discovery, both things i would like, but no actual pon farr, except spock has a supportive mother and a girlfriend, somewhat based on my own path to realizing im ace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24550330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howlingdawn/pseuds/Howlingdawn
Summary: Figuring out you're asexual should be easy enough. After all, all you have to do is realize you don't get sexually attracted to people. And really, how scary can it be, telling the person you're closest to that you're just not terribly interested in having sex? That doesn't sound like such a big deal. Simple enough, right?It only takes Spock about twenty-three years to accomplish those two little things.
Relationships: Amanda Grayson & Spock, Spock & Spock Prime, Spock/Nyota Uhura
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49





	Questions, More Questions, and Maybe an Answer or Two

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been out as bi for three years now, but it's only within the last few months that I realized I'm ace as well, and it made me realize that part of the reason I've identified with Spock and loved Spuhura since I was nine years old is because I look at him and see myself, and I look at them and see the relationship I want one day. I don't normally write stuff based on my own experiences, and I've only ever written two coming out fics before and neither were even remotely this long and detailed, but this felt very important to me (and it's Pride Month so would there ever be a better time to write this? I think not), so I did my best. I hope you enjoy!

Spock sits patiently in the courtyard, waiting for his mother to finish her meeting. It’s a pleasant day – the sun is bright and warm, a faint breeze keeping the heat from becoming oppressive, and he watches birds soar overhead and land in the fountain for a bath. No one is around to bother him, and he is content, legs loosely crossed, solving the Rubik’s cube his mother had gotten him simply to fidget rather than out of boredom. He’s barely even looking at it; it’s hardly a challenge. But it is nice.

All too soon, the adults begin to exit the building. He tucks the cube away at the first sign of movement, unwilling to be seen with a human toy. He studies the crowd for his mother, and as he does so, he sees something unusual: Two men in the shadows, performing a discreet finger-touch before parting ways.

He furrows his brows, considering this, and does not notice his mother’s arrival. “Ready to go, sweetheart?”

“I thought the finger-touch was for married couples.”

Recognizing that he’s puzzling through a problem and therefore unlikely to move, she sits beside him, beginning to run her fingers through his hair to brush out particles of sand blown into it. “It is.”

“And married couples consist of a man and a woman.”

“Usually, yes.”

He looks up at her, tilting his head. “Usually?”

She smiles, illogically amused as always by that particular gesture of his. “There are many people who fall in love with someone of their own gender. Such unions are very common on Earth, though not so much here.”

“Why?”

“Because most marriages here are arranged,” she answers. “And many Vulcans are content with that tradition. But on Earth, figuring out your sexuality is a very important thing to some people.”

He considers this. “Is it difficult?”

“It can be. There are many different sexualities – gay, bisexual, aromantic, the list goes on. Some people always know. Some don’t know until they’re old and grey. It’s not something anyone can answer for you, so it may be a constant journey of self-discovery.”

Seeing that no Vulcans remain in the courtyard, he allows himself to bite his lip as he takes in this new aspect of his mixed heritage. “How important is it? Knowing your sexuality?”

She finally finishes with his hair, and she slips off the bench to kneel before him, lightly cupping his cheek. “As important as you want it to be. You’re only five, sweetheart – you have plenty of time. Besides, you should still think girls have cooties.”

He wrinkles his nose. “I am more mature than that, Mother.”

Her smiles only grows. “Of course. My mistake.”

She kisses his forehead before standing, holding out her hand. “Mac and cheese for dinner?”

He bounces to his feet, taking her hand. “Yes, please!”

Mac and cheese is a treat reserved for when Father is out of town – determining who he may fall in love with in the distant future can wait.

\-----

Spock is quite concerned when he learns about _pon farr_.

He is thirteen. He knows about sex. He knows his classmates now talk about the relative attractiveness of various people they’re interested in. He too has begun noticing the beauty of his female classmates, but he has yet to want to kiss any of them.

He chalks it up to the fact that every single one has made at least one derogatory comment about his heritage at one point or another. Thus, it does not concern him.

What _does_ concern him is the idea that one day he will have to do much more than kiss a woman, or else he will die.

Neither option seems very appealing.

Another student raises his hand. “Will the half-breed undergo _pon farr_?”

He feels the familiar irritated weariness at the term, but he is more interested in the teacher’s response. As per usual, she does not rebuke the use of the insult, and simply answers the question. “I do not know.”

That sparks a flurry of questions, answers, and debate. Tucked away in the back corner, Spock does not participate, but he takes in every word.

By the time class ends, the conclusion remains the same: No one knows.

As he packs up his belongings and hurries away from the uncomfortable subject, he clings to the vague comfort that maybe, just maybe, he will never undergo _pon farr_.

\-----

He tries to put it out of his mind, but when his mother comes home and he has not yet finished the day’s homework, she knows immediately that something is wrong. “How was school?”

He frowns at the math he has been unable to focus on for the past fifteen minutes. “We learned about _pon farr_.”

She sighs, and for a moment he thinks she is concerned like he is, but when she sits beside him and strokes his hair, she simply murmurs, “You’re growing up.”

He looks at her, remembering for the first time in months their conversation from long ago. “What are the human sexualities?”

She blinks, a bit taken aback, but responds easily. “There’s gay, lesbian, asexual, bisexual, pansexual-”

He latches on to one, recognizing the prefix. “Asexual?” he echoes.

She nods. “That one means you’re not sexually attracted to anyone.” She tilts her head. “Why?”

Spock furrows his brows, thinking. He doesn’t recall ever being particularly interested in kissing, and the idea of having to go further fills him with nerves more than anything else, but could that simply be due to him not finding anyone worth being interested yet? And he does know quite well when a woman is beautiful. Does that constitute attraction? Does he have enough evidence to decide one way or another?

The questions flood his mind in an overwhelming surge, and the only thing he can pick out for certain is that it is very difficult to determine if he experiences the absence of something he may not know how to feel.

Deflating, he shakes his head, answering his mother’s question with a quiet, “Never mind.”

\-----

The question lingers in the back of his mind for years to come, but given that he is betrothed to T’Pring and will most likely need to have sex one day whether he wants to or not, he does not permit himself to dwell upon it. Besides, he has more pressing matters – if he is to overcome his human half and successfully gain admittance to the Vulcan Science Academy, he must focus on his studies.

Then, precisely when he achieves his dream, he flips his life upside down and leaves Vulcan to join Starfleet.

He does not know what this means for his eventual marriage to T’Pring, but he does know that he is suddenly very much surrounded by countless young humans, and they are _very_ focused on sex.

His roommate seems to bring a partner back to their dorm every week. Countless conversations he overhears seem to revolve around innuendo and stories of bedding their partners. Even their literature and historic television seems obsessed with the subject, and more than once, Spock finds himself yet again the subject of cruel taunts over it.

But these taunts are different. Instead of being mocked for being too interested in sex – something he very much recognizes the irony of – he is mocked for not being interested _enough_. Instead of being called emotional, he is now called logical, cold, heartless. Just as he was too human for Vulcans, he is now too Vulcan for humans, and it throws the familiar old question into a new light: Is he asexual, or is it simply his Vulcan side showing itself?

Thanks to their suppression of any sort of feeling besides disdain for his humanity, he can hardly use his memory of older Vulcans as a guide, and he does not particularly care to analyze his parents’ various displays of physical affection.

More confused than ever before, he continues trying to ignore the question altogether.

\-----

Then he meets Nyota.

Intelligent, caring, confident, funny, _beautiful_ Nyota.

He forgets many things around her. He forgets that he is betrothed. He forgets that it is against the rules to date his student. He forgets that he has spent a lifetime trying to quash his every human feeling.

But when the term ends and she agrees to date him with a level of eagerness he had never dared anticipate, he does not forget the question of his possible sexuality.

For a short while, though, it does not seem too pressing. At first, he does not believe the relationship will last long enough for it to matter – why should such a vibrant human who could easily have any man she wants choose him? It seems rather illogical.

And yet, that is the decision she makes, and while they have their differences and rough patches, she shows no signs of wanting to leave him. It makes the question somewhat more pressing, but she respects his Vulcan boundaries, and unlike many humans, she does not seem to care when months pass and they have not gone further than stolen kisses.

And oh, how he does treasure those kisses. She is warm, soft, a soothing presence, and she takes note of which of her flavored lip balms makes him kiss her a little harder, a little longer. There’s a daringness to them, an uncertainty of what would happen if they were to be caught, and he cannot deny there is an excitement to the secrecy.

He had been nervous the first time, unsure if he would like it, unsure if she would like him, but when he accidentally bumped his nose against hers, she only chuckled softly as he tried to apologize, guiding him back to her with a gentle hand, quieting his awkwardness with her lips, and he melted into her, suddenly quite certain that he never wanted to stop.

The question still nags at him. Saying definitively that he is _not_ asexual is still not a commitment he feels right making. But when he holds her against him, and she’s leaning into the kiss, beginning to forget for just one precious moment that they cannot linger over the goodbye, he is even more unsure of his ability to commit to saying that he _is_ asexual.

\-----

They sleep together for the first time shortly after defeating Nero.

It is not something they planned on, but with recent losses weighing heavily upon them, ending their first date since the disaster with only their usual goodbye kiss suddenly hadn’t felt like _enough_. She was careful to make sure that he was all right with it, and when he insisted that he was, they fell into his bed, making up for all the time they had very nearly never had.

After, when he slowly wakes early in the morning, he still cannot say that sleeping with her is something he ever _needed_. He had heard so many humans refer to it as such – a need. But as beautiful as she was, as enticing as she had made herself for their dates, he cannot even say it was something he actively wanted. Even now, with her contentedly fast asleep on his chest, dawn’s light slanting through the window to shine upon her bare skin, he cannot say he has ever fully related to the human phrase of wanting to get in her pants. He has thought about the possibility, but he has never looked at her and felt the need for sex.

She is beautiful, and he enjoyed the night – he enjoyed the night _immensely_ – but watching her now, even with the blankets a tangled mess that covers very little, it is her face he sees. A smile lingers on her lips in her sleep, and he carefully brushes a loose lock aside so he can see it better, and it is the ways she smiled he remembers most, the different ways she looked happy, eager, mischievous, blissful.

As the minutes drift by, he realizes that perhaps it was not so much the sex he had enjoyed, as it was being with her, trusting her with a part of him he had never been comfortable giving to anyone else, and just making her _happy_.

He realizes with sudden, blinding clarity that he is now certain he is asexual.

And with the realization comes not relief, but anxiety.

He loves Nyota. He loves her more than he thought it would be possible for even humans to love anyone. Without her by his side, he is not sure he would have made it through the aftermath of losing his mother. She is a constant, steady presence, the first person on this planet to embrace both halves of him wholly and without reservation, the first besides his mother to not only encourage him to be himself, but to love him for it. Where he had once believed she would leave him quickly, while he still believed she deserved better than him, he now could no longer bring himself to imagine a future without her, and with the destruction of Vulcan causing T’Pring to choose to break off their betrothal in favor of a wholly Vulcan husband with whom to procreate, that future is a much stronger possibility.

So how could he explain that sleeping with her had made him realize he could never truly be attracted to her? That though he will always find her beautiful, he can never _want_ her in that way? If sex truly is a human need, and he is only comfortable giving it to her every seven years when _pon farr_ strikes – _if pon farr_ strikes, which feels less likely as the years wear on, though the idea of undergoing it with Nyota takes away much of the dread he feels about it – would she still want to be with him?

He knows Nyota is different from most humans. He does not think she could love him if she weren’t. But when she stirs against him with an adorable yawn, her hand sliding down his side to feel his heartbeat as she tilts her head up to smile sleepily at him, any courage he may have had to broach the subject dies in an instant.

He never wants this moment to end.

So he pushes the realization to the back of his mind, back to the corner the question had lived in for so many years, and kisses her forehead, focusing instead on welcoming the morning.

\-----

Several days later, he takes lunch with the elder Spock. It’s his last day before leaving to scout the exact location for the Vulcan colony, and he must admit that he will miss no longer being the only half-Vulcan in the area. “Do you know how long it take to build the settlement?”

“Ideally, the first civilians will begin arriving within six months, though it may take longer depending on where we choose to settle,” he answers. “We will work quickly to get our people back on their feet, but Starfleet has agreed to house our refugees on Earth, so we have ample time to ensure the necessary infrastructure is sufficiently prepared.”

Spock nods, trying to be pleased at the optimistic estimate, but, as is often the case, he instead finds himself thinking of his mother, and how she would relish both the opportunity to visit Earth and the challenge of assisting in rebuilding Vulcan society. He has lost count of the number of times he has reached for a PADD to message or call her, only to be stopped in his tracks by the sudden remembrance of watching her fall, her scream echoing in his mind, a sound he will surely remember for the rest of his life above the roar of his collapsing homeworld.

As if sensing where the younger’s thoughts had turned, the elder changes the subject. “Spock,” he broaches. “May I ask a personal query?”

Dragging his thoughts away from the pit of grief, he refocuses on the other man. “Of course.”

“I have noticed a… certain level of familiarity between yourself and Lieutenant Uhura,” he says, clearly choosing his words with care. “Am I correct in concluding you are engaged in a romantic relationship with her?”

Recent events having taught them all too harshly that life is too short, they have relaxed the secrecy surrounding their relationship, but Spock still looks around instinctively for listening ears before answering. “We are.”

Spock lets out a little noise of intrigue. “Fascinating.”

Spock furrows his brows. “Did you and your Nyota not have such a relationship?”

“No.” Spock hesitates, taking his own instinctive look around. “My heart pined for another.”

Curiosity overtakes Spock as well. “Who? If I may ask.”

“I believe I will keep that answer to myself,” he says, “to avoid any further risk of affecting your future. However, I will tell you why your relationship surprises me: I am gay.”

Were he fully human, Spock thinks he would have choked on his water. “You are?”

“Indeed.” He steeples his hands together. “Ours is not the only altered sexuality I have seen, either. It is rather intriguing, albeit strange to see.”

Spock blinks, wondering for a moment who else he spoke of, when another question occurs to him. “May I ask a personal query of my own?”

“Of course.”

“Are you…” He fumbles over the words, unused to saying them aloud. “Are you asexual?”

“That,” Spock answers slowly, “is a question I have been trying to answer for quite a long time.”

Spock leans back, lowering his gaze, and for the first time in his life, he quietly admits, “I am. But… Nyota does not know. And I am unsure if I should tell her.”

An expression akin to an encouraging smile crosses the elder’s face. “That is not a decision I can make for you. However, I will say this: The Uhura I served with is a woman of impeccable esteem with a kind, loving heart. She is a steadfast companion who would embrace all of who you are without hesitation. I have seen no reason to believe your Nyota is any different, and _if_ she is, I daresay she is not the partner you are looking for.”

“I understand,” Spock murmurs. “I simply do not wish to lose her.”

“I do not blame you.”

Spock arches an eyebrow. “Was that a joke?”

Spock sips his spoonful of soup, almost looking mischievous. “Perhaps it was.”

\-----

For once, it’s Spock dozing on Nyota’s lap as she sits up in bed, reading late into the night. She holds her book with one hand, her other lightly tracing his ear, running through his hair, chasing off the persistent faint headache lingering after his battle with an illness picked up on an away mission.

Even grieving the loss of his mother and adjusting to the way most people now look at him as a member of a fallen race, he can definitively say that these last months aboard the _Enterprise_ have been the happiest months of his life. He has found friends here, the first friends he has ever had, and they accept him.

And with he and Nyota now free to be open about their relationship, they have grown closer than ever. The knowledge that he is asexual still hangs over him, unspoken to anyone but the elder Spock, but even though they now spend their nights together more often than not, she has never demanded sex, and seems just as happy on the many nights they do not have it as she has had on the two nights they have. Perhaps that, in conjunction with the relaxed midnight atmosphere, is what gives him the courage to finally speak.

“Nyota?”

“Hm?”

She sounds casual, giving him her attention without fully tearing herself from her book, but still he hesitates, nervous, still not used to speaking of this subject. “I am asexual,” he finally manages to grind out.

Her hand stills in his hair. He does not move – cannot move – and waits with bated breath, listening to her slowly set her book down. “You are?”

He tries to interpret her tone, but without the ability to see her, it is much more difficult. “Yes.”

“Spock,” she says slowly, “I haven’t- I haven’t forced you to do anything, have I?”

“No!” Realizing in a rush of confused relief that that is what she’s concerned about, he sits up immediately. “I have not done anything I did not want to do.”

“Ok.” She lets out a heavy breath of her own relief, steadying him when the movement triggers the residual ache left by the illness, making him wince. “That’s good.”

He pauses, waiting for their quarters to stop spinning, waiting for her to say something else. “Is there… anything more?” he prompts when she continues to say nothing.

“Well,” she says with a lightly humorous tone, “if we’re coming out, I should tell you I’m pansexual.”

“Noted.” He furrows his brows. “You have no concerns?”

“About what this means for our sex life?”

He nods.

Nyota turns her body fully to face him, cupping his cheeks in both hands. “Do you love me?”

“Of course,” he says instantly.

She looks him directly in the eye, but her voice is soft, her thumbs trailing along his cheeks. “Then that’s all that matters,” she tells him. “Spock, in all the time we’ve been together, and even when we were just teacher and student, you have done nothing but encourage me, support me, and be unfailingly _kind_ to me. That’s the important part of being in a relationship. Is sex fun? Yes. Is it something I can live without if it means staying with someone who loves me, who is sweet and curious and wonderful, whom I trust without question? _Yes_.”

There is no hesitation, no doubt in her words. He closes his eyes, resting his forehead against hers, letting his shoulders slump as he feels a lifetime of confusion and doubt and fear melt away as she hugs him close. “I was worried.”

“Don’t be.” She kisses his cheek, barely a brush of her lips, but he can feel her smile. “I plan on keeping you around for a long time yet.”

“I am… very glad.”

“I’m glad you’re glad.” She pulls back, smiling, and pats his pillow. “We should get some sleep. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Already in his pajamas, all Spock has to do is lie down. Nyota goes through her nighttime routine, and be the time she crawls back into bed, he is nearly asleep. She tucks herself in, and he is just awake enough to roll over to her, nestling his head on her shoulder. She wraps her arm around him, kissing the top of his head. “Thank you,” she murmurs, “for trusting me.”

He drapes his arm over her stomach, finding her hand and taking it into his. “Thank you for accepting me.”

“I always will, my love.”

There’s silence for a minute, and then, as if the thought has just occurred to her: “You do like kissing, right?”

He’s just asleep enough to let himself smile. “Very much so.”

He feels her nod, and silence once again follows, her breathing easing into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. He remains awake a while longer, content to bask in the warmth that comes from knowing that things have changed, and yet nothing has changed at all. He is still uneasy about _pon farr_ , still uncertain of what the future holds, but now Nyota _knows_ him, all of him, and she is still by his side, unwavering as always.

Whatever challenges he may face, he is certain she will always be there, and that is all the reassurance he needs.


End file.
